If Stars Shouldn't Shine
by SkyandIris
Summary: She's home only a week before it happens.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: While I listen to "Stars" by The XX and procrastinate working on Echoes & Dust, this happens. Blame Tressie.**

XxXxXxX

She's home only a week before it happens. And it was inevitable, she supposed. She'd been slowly, tentatively finding her way by watching everyone as they moved throughout the kitchen. Cataloging every cupboard opened and every drawer rummaged through. There's not much order in the Toretto household, but it is a well-organized chaos machine. She feels a deep affection for it, even though all she feels is a slight sense of déjà vu when she wanders around. But she does understand, on some level, why this place was home for her so long ago. Love permeates the air. From the dusty photos of Dom and Mia's mother and father, pictures from their old team, their shared adolescence and new ones taken shortly after Jack was born.

_Jesse_, she said suddenly one day. Mia dropped a frame in shock and Dom looked incredulously over at her from the couch. When asked how she remembered, she simply shrugged, tracing the young boy's face slowly. "We were friends, right?"

Dom shook with laughter, a warm smile crossing his face. "_No one rolled a joint better_," He smirked. "Your words, not mine. Though, I'd beg to differ…yours weren't half bad."

She'd rolled her eyes and set the photo back down, letting her fingers trail across faces slowly becoming familiar to her once again. Jesse was dead, and Leon had hightailed it out of Mexico as soon as Dom had joined them. Vince, well, she'd asked about the bearded man, once. Mia'd gone quiet and Dom averted his gaze and she knew whatever had become of him wasn't a safe topic to discuss, not with her fragile hold on this new reality and the process of reintigrating themselves into a normal sort of life.

"We'll have to get new ones," Mia informs them all over dinner, glancing at Dom before looking at Letty with a soft smile. "I want shots of you both, and with Jack."

She doesn't remember if she liked babies before, but little Jack O'Conner quickly won over her heart. Endearingly identical to Mia, with just enough mischief in his big eyes to incite arguments over whether he inherited it from his father or uncle. She's found an unexpected closeness to Brian, who she'd found possessed a steady voice of reason. She could tell he'd still felt guilty over his involvement in the course her life had taken, even though she'd reminded him countless times of her stubborn nature and headstrong attitude, both of which seemed unaffected by whatever havoc the explosion had wreaked on her brain. Left in the limbo of feeling just on the _verge_ of remembering yet, no power of will being able to force the memories back, she felt startlingly off-balance in her new old life.

Which is why she's crumpled over in the dark kitchen, the moonlight casting long shadows and the shattered remains of a ceramic cup scattered to her left, heel of her hand pressed to her eyes in an attempt to stave off any more tears that threaten to fall.

Her time in London had cultivated a love for a good cuppa in her, and she'd thrown a box of her favorite into their cart that morning, but found herself unable to locate it in the dark, unfamiliar kitchen and in her frustration, had knocked the cup clear off the counter behind her.

The sound had shattered the relative silence of the house, and she'd waited with her heart in her throat for the telltale whine of Jack if he'd been disturbed from sleep. When she was sure she hadn't woken the baby, the first tears began to fall. She felt like such a failure. Couldn't remember which cupboard the teabags were stashed in, couldn't remember any of the people in this house, couldn't remember loving them or fighting with them or anything beyond what she'd gathered from pictures and stories and home videos they'd eagerly produced for her.

She's so lost in frustration at herself she doesn't even hear him come in, doesn't even notice him until he drops to his knees next to her.

"It's gonna be alright," He soothes, pulling her into his arms. He doesn't even have to ask, knew it was coming as much as she did. One hand anchors her firmly to him, the other slowly rubs on her back. "It'll be alright. We'll figure it out, we always do."

She hiccups on a sob then, buries her face in his shoulder. She should probably feel a bit silly, but the man holding her has been nothing but supportive, encouraging her to take all the time she needed and to give herself a break. Unlikely, but comforting to hear nonetheless. "I wish-I wish I could _remember_."

"It's no big deal," He teases gently. "Sometimes it takes me _hours _to figure out where Mia's stashed everything. Should get her to make diagrams or somethin'."

"No, not that." Her voice is soft, muffled into the warm skin of his shoulder. He still hasn't quite gotten over the feeling, and he wonders if it's just instinct or if she realizes that it was her favorite spot to lay after, well…

He doesn't let himself hope too much, is content with whatever she can give right now. He knows the years without her were hell, can't imagine what they must have been like for her. At least he had the memories, people who understood his pain. All Letty was left with was a hole, a gaping, empty spot that ached without her knowing _why_. Dropped in a strange world, with people who only wanted her around for what she could do for _them_ and couldn't give two shits if she lived or died at the end of the day so long as the job was done well.

"Not that." She repeats, her voice a low rasp as she shudders a breath. "I just…" She swallows thickly and he kisses her hair, moves his arm from her back to behind her neck as she tilts her head back to look at him. "I wish I could remember why you love me so fucking much."

He smiles at her then, brings both hands up to cradle her head, ensuring that she can't dodge his gaze, a tactic she'd been employing a lot lately. Especially when it came to his feelings for her, and the ones he stirred in her from the first _glance_ back in London, even though he was a stranger to her then.

"Now that," He flicks her ear gently, pressing a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Is something I won't have a problem with refreshing your memory on."

She still looks unsure, her eyes brewing a storm in warm brown.

"Don't worry about it, baby." He slowly moves this thumb down the bridge of her nose, soothes her even if she can't remember all the times he'd done it before.

"It's just, you know so many things about me, about us, and I can't-"

"You're here, now, with me." Dom shrugs. "Even if you never remember, it's enough."

He holds her for a few long moments, the crickets chirp outside and a dog howls and an engine backfires and it all feels like home, tucked safe in his arms and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's right.

When her breathing steadies, he moves to stand, locking one hand with hers and pulling her to her feet next to him. He doesn't let go as he carefully kicks the broken pieces aside towards the trash can, making a note to sweep them up before Mia or Brian woke to get a bottle for Jack.

"Come on," He says softly. "Let's go for a drive."

It's kind of crazy, she thinks a few minutes later, sliding into the passenger seat of the Charger in her pajamas, bare legs getting goosebumps against the cool leather and bare feet wiggling against the floormats.

He gets behind the wheel, and she laughs slightly at the tag sticking out under his chin and he frowns almost comically, before glancing over at her with a grin and starting the engine. She doesn't know that they've done this before, these late night rides, and that the last time ended with a very uncomfortable encounter with a shirtless Dom explaining turn signals to a gaggle of elderly women when he really just wanted to get the giggling Latina in the passenger seat into his bed.

He won't tell her where he's taking her, just drives past places that

"If you're driving me to Timbuktu to murder me, I'm gonna be _so_ pissed." She's reclined in her seat, toes on the dashboard now. She's the only person he'd ever let get away with that, and it's just another thing to file away to be sorted as _coincidence_ or _memory_ later.

His throaty laugh brings a grin to her face as well, and she bites her lip trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. She couldn't explain it, but this, just the two of them, cruising around in the dark like they owned the streets just felt _right_, and her chest felt tight with _something_.

He slides his hand on her leg, rubs gently at the skin just above her knee. There's another scar there, one she got skittering across roofs with her cousins in the DR as a young girl, and one just below it, from skinning her knee trying to jump Vince's old skateboard ramp with her bicycle. He knows her body, as well as he knows his own, has spent the majority of his life learning it and loving it and he had no problem with going above and beyond to show her that this, _them_, was the way it was supposed to be. Even if she never remembered, even if all they could do was clear the wreckage and build new memories in their place. It would never be exactly the same, perhaps, but it could be just as good.

She drops her hand to cover his, lets it rest there as he flips his hand around, threads his fingers through hers. She's staring out the window, up at the stars or the streetlights he's not sure.

He pulls right onto the sand, kills the engine and is out of his seat and around to her door before she even unbuckles. He pulls her to her feet, her toes burrowing into the still-warm sand. He's produced a hooded sweatshirt from somewhere, and he's gotten it over her head, her arms sliding automatically through the holes, sinking into its warmth against the ocean breeze. It's his, she can tell. It smells like him and the arms hang too long and the bottom covers the hem of her shorts and she can feel a small tear in the cuff at the wrist, the perfect size for her thumbs to wriggle through.

They walk down it a ways, find a rock and settle on it, her between his legs as he rubs her arms slowly. The beach is abandoned but for them, although the remnants of a bonfire still flicker in the distance, the smell of smoke and salt and sea filling her with yet another sense of _right_.

"On a beach, in Mexico." She murmurs softly, and she leans back into him. "You said that to me, didn't you."

It's not so much a question, but he nods anyways. "I made a lot of promises, I just wish I did a better job at keeping them."

He'd promised to keep her safe, once. Swore on his life he'd take care of her, even if he'd made a show of rolling his eyes and shrugging it off then. She'd been just a kid, a tomboy with a big mouth and a killer right hook and a penchant for using _both_ to get herself into trouble and Dom hadn't thought she was worth the hassle. But his father had just smirked and shook his head, went back under the hood muttering about her making him changing his mind someday. And she had, and it had hit him with the force of an earthquake, throwing everything off balance in its unpredictability and strength. If there was one injustice in the world that he'd give anything to remedy, it was that she may never remember how strong they'd always been together, even when it felt like everything was falling apart.

She shifts then, tips her head back, stares up into the vast blackness above.

If he was the sun, with everything pulled into his orbit, then she was the stars. The lights in the dark, burning brightly even when no one could see them.

They stay there until the sky starts to lighten, each star slowly flickering out of view and tendrils of sun reaching out to take their place, to hold its court until the cycle repeated itself like it always had.

And as the water crashes against the shore, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything will turn out exactly the way it should.

XxXxXxX


	2. Chapter 2

XxXxXxX

He tells her he doesn't care if she never remembers, that her being there with him, being alive, is simply _enough_.

She's not entirely sure she believes him, but it's comforting to hear nonetheless. It's like she's been punishing herself for ages, wondering how it was possible she could forget her entire life, these people who were willing to put _everything _on the line for her when she couldn't even recognize their faces.

Maybe she's a bit like a puzzle, she thinks. She's got her edges, the basis for who she's _supposed _to be. But she's missing her center, what really makes her _her_, and she's not too sure how to find the rest of her pieces, how to put herself back together again.

But she remembers, slowly.

At first, she's not sure if each little flash is simply manufactured by her weary brain, desperate to reclaim the memories it'd lost, or if they were real, concrete things that had happened to her. She finds out for certain one day, as she wanders behind the garage and runs her fingers along a deep crack in the wood, fingers hitting tattered remains of now-soft paper. Wedged in between two weathered boards, the last joint she and Jesse ever shared. Forgotten, as they all scrambled to cross the border after their last, ill-fated heist.

She laughs out loud then, fondly remembering how _excited _Jesse had been. His thrill over going to Race Wars that year. He hadn't been able to go the previous year, and was eager to make up for the lost time by coming home with a new car. Letty thought it was kind of stupid, putting his dad's Jetta on the line like he planned, but he'd been so happy, the cloud that had been around him since his father went to jail lifted, so she'd crept out of her and Dom's bed for one last smoke before they left in the morning.

Before everything went to hell.

That night, she rolls over in bed to face him. He's not quite asleep, so she snuggles in close and kisses his shoulder and whispers, "I love you."

He thinks it was part of a dream, when morning rolls around. And she doesn't mention it, not as she helps Mia set the table for breakfast, not as she slathers her pancakes in peanut butter and earns herself a few disgusted looks from everyone else at the table. She feeds a tiny piece to Jack, who shrieks and reaches for more, and her smile is so smug and victorious and so much like the Letty who chased off skanks and took cocky racers for all they were worth.

She's driving down to Mexico for the weekend, to visit her aunt and her cousins. They'd been informed of the situation once they were well and truly settled in back in Echo Park, but the knowledge that she was _alive_ trumped any other feelings they'd had about her memory loss.

More people who loved her, whom she couldn't remember.

It proves to be a long two days for Dom without her, longest they've been apart since he'd gotten her back. He's going soft, he knows, but he can't even bring himself to be anything but content.

It's late Sunday when she rolls back into town, and Dom's just put the chicken on the grill when she calls him.

He meets her up at the beach he brought her a few months back, finds her sitting on the same rock and looking over the water at the sunset.

"There she is."

She grins sideways at him as he slides behind her, kisses the back of her head as he wraps his arms around her.

"Good visit?"

She nods thoughtfully. "They had a piñata, for Ana's birthday. I had to bust it open for them after an hour."

He chuckled lowly, her hair brushing his chin as she snuggled back into him further. "Of course you did."

They sit there for a long moment, breathing in the salty air and watching a group of teens horse around and throw each other into the surf.

It hadn't been as awkward as she'd expected. Her young cousins seemed to want to update her on every detail of their lives, which left very little time for anyone else to pester her about exactly how much she could recall, which if she was quite honest, was more than she expected.

A few more pieces clicking into place, stars shining brighter through the clouds.

"Gonna tell me what's on your mind?"

Letty shrugs, smiles teasingly even though he couldn't see it. "Maybe."

He pokes her side and she jumps, muffling a laugh in his broad arm. "_Maybe_?"

But she's been thinking about this for a while, and until yesterday, until a long conversation with her aunt over a cup of rapidly cooling tea, she hadn't had the courage to ask. "Why'd you do it? Jump after me, I mean?"

He doesn't speak for a moment, but she feels him stiffen slightly behind her. He didn't much like talking about the time he'd spent believing she was dead, but from what she'd gleaned from Mia and Brian and various others who'd had the misfortune of encountering him directly after the news had reached her, he hadn't taken it well. And she'd known, even without _remembering_, that the man she'd met in London wasn't simply a man on a mission, but a man who was clawing so desperately for something back that he was willing to risk everything for it. For _her_.

"I'd already lost you once," He murmurs softly, his voice barely audible over the crash of water. "I wasn't about to lose you again."

"But you didn't know how it'd end," She reminds him just as quietly. He had no way of knowing for sure that the car would be there to crash into, he'd simply sailed off one side of the bridge, over the abyss, consequences be damned.

He smiles then, she can feel his lips move on her hair and it's clear as day in his deep voice. "I didn't. Faith, remember."

"I'm serious." She jabs a finger into his side and he tightens his arms around her, breathing in deeply as he gently moves to turn her around. It's a slow shuffle, adjusting limbs and finding a comfortable spot to face him on the slanted rock.

"Okay, _serious_." He waits until her eyes meet his before kissing the corner of her mouth, lingering with his lips even as he spoke. "Losing you again, it wasn't an option. And if you were gonna go…I was going with you. No matter what."

She huffs a short laugh, her breath hot against his ear as she brings a hand up to affectionately flick the lobe. "You're crazy, y'know that?"

"And you love me."

Her smiles turn genuine. "Yeah, I do. Still think you're an idiot, but hey. Mine, at least."

He doesn't argue with her, and they sit there for only a few moments before the chilly breeze makes her shiver, and he pulls her up to walk hand in hand with him until they have to separate at their cars.

She pulls up next to him about a mile and a half from the house, grinning over at him though their open windows. "First one home gets top."

He smirks back over at her. "Deal."

She'd been itching for a rematch since London and he knew it, and _she_ knew that he had no plans to go easy on her despite his arguably unfair advantage. But now, the tide had changed. And she glances up at the light, taunting her with it's red glow.

The instant it changes, they're off. The streets are mostly deserted, and they have a nearly clean shot back to the Toretto house. They're neck and neck until they're two streets away, when Letty fakes him out, pulling a move she hadn't used since she sat behind the wheel of a purple Nissan. A grin busts out on her face as she peals into the driveway, sliding into park and slamming her hands on the wheel victoriously. She nearly bounces out of his car and instead of the annoyed expression she'd expected, his face is blazing, intent. He hauls her up against him and spins her, presses her against the hood of the Charger and keeps her pinned. Before he can even form words, however, she's pressing her lips to his, one hand on his chest and the other slowly traveling from his bicep to the side of his face, gently smoothing the lines from his forehead. She pulls back just as quickly and gives him a grin, standing on her toes to brush her nose against his.

"Ride or die, remember? Cause I sure as hell do."

His answering grin is nearly heartstopping, and his hands are on either side of her face and dragging her back to him. "You little-"

"Hey, you guys!" Mia calls out, the impatience in her voice obvious. "Quit fooling around and come eat before it gets cold."

"Come on," Letty murmurs, her lips still on his as she mockingly scolds him. "Let's not give her any more shows. We're _adults, _remember_?_"

But they're still smiling like idiots together, and he shakes his head. "She knows how it works, she's got the kid to prove it. Fuck the food."

"But I'm hungry," She complains teasingly.

He's refusing to budge, a light in his eyes she hadn't seen it what seems like ages. "We can get a pizza. Later."

When he pulls back to look at her, really look at her, his breath catches. When he'd first met her in London, her eyes were lost, uncertainty hidden behind a tough facade. After she'd learnt to trust him, after she'd felt that unfamiliar feeling of pure _relief _when he walked away from the burning ruins unharmed, her eyes had turned a little more certain, like she _knew_ she was where she was meant to be. And over the last few months, she'd settled back into life in LA, life with _him,_ and she'd come to love him intensely as the person she was now. And now, in that familiar brown, he could also see the girl she once was, the one whose shoulder he'd cried into after his father died, the girl he'd loved for longer she'd ever realize.

She rolls her eyes at him, pats the side of his cheek. "If you think you're _ever_ gonna get laid without feeding me first, you've got another thing coming, Mr. Toretto."

He lets her lead him around the house and into the backyard, into their family, and they're _home_.

XxXxXxX


End file.
